There are so many things I’ve been meaning to do for months and months. As you might guess, one of those things is spend some more time here, in this space, with you, sorting out the madness in my head.

And it’s just not happening. The list of things I should really take care of keeps growing and growing. The list of things I’ve managed to do keeps shrinking and shrinking.

And it comes down to this: I can’t seem to stay awake. Like…at all.

I’m skating by, doing the bare minimum to keep my kid alive and fed and entertained (no small task, as anyone with toddler wrangling experience can attest to). But that’s it. I struggle to wake up in the morning. I rarely maintain consciousness during Abhimanyu’s afternoon nap. And then I become a useless zombie from 7pm until I go to bed. So yeah…that doesn’t leave a lot of time to get anything done. Let alone interesting or rewarding things like reading books to prepare for the new baby or get our apartment in relative order or process my thoughts or write or…or…or…

I’m not trying to make excuses (I don’t think). I’m straight up complaining. It sucks. I want to get more stuff done. I’m hella behind in life. I guess the silver lining is that I’m too tired to muster up the anxiety proportional to my situation. Heh.

I swear it was easier last time I was this pregnant. I was working in an office part time even. So what gives? On a good day, I feel like an incompetent loser. These days good days (productive days? Something) are few and far between, so imagine how I’m feeling.

I enjoy swimming. I’m not very good at it, and it tires me out pretty quickly (something something pressure on my lungs something something I’m making up an explanation, really), but I enjoy it. It’s a proxy for weightlessness, for flight, for freedom. Who doesn’t like that stuff? Anyway, I learned how to swim when I was a little kid. And we even had a swimming unit in middle school (in Minnesota!). But I never managed to get the hang of treading water. I would tire quickly and end up moving a ton. Not ideal. Can you tell that I’m building up a flat-footed metaphor here? Well, I am. And I’m too tired to wrap it up properly. So yeah…I suck at treading water.

But at least I’m not drowning. I think…